


I Just Want To See His Face

by missdibley



Series: The Red Nose Diaries [14]
Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/M, Facetime, Fluff, Masturbation, Tiff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-21 00:55:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4808765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I wanted to go home, to London and to my bed and my books and my Button. I wanted to crawl under the sheets and not wake up until award season was over. I wanted to find Carmen in my kitchen wearing nothing but that blue t-shirt, holding a slice of pie for us to share as she makes her way up to our bedroom. I wanted to go down on her, make her come with my tongue and my fingers, until she screamed herself hoarse, and then cuddle with her until Christmas. So where was she?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Just Want To See His Face

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a bunch of micro-fics over the weekend that you should read before. They are on my tumblr here: <http://oeffsee.tumblr.com/post/129085917378/in-case-you-missed-it-t-c>.

**Carmen**

“So what do you have planned for today?”

Mrs. Harper and I were standing in the lobby of The Carlyle Hotel, where we had been staying while in town for the U.S. Open. She with her suitcase, dressed chicly but practically in a Chanel jacket over a linen shift, and me in Tom’s blue t-shirt, which I wore tucked into flared jeans (so fall 2015!). I towered over her in my favorite clogs.

“I thought I’d take the subway down to SoHo, just wander around aimlessly. Like when I was a poor young thing, fresh out of college and living on instant ramen and dollar pizza while I was the third worst office assistant at the second best fashion PR agency. It’ll be nice to see what’s changed.”

“Sounds like a wonderful plan.” Mrs. Harper patted my arm, then gave it a light squeeze. “And will you be on your phone all day today too?”

I felt myself flush. “I’m so sorry about that. I didn’t mean…”

She interrupted me with a giggle. “Carmen, I was just teasing! It was your young man, right? The reason poor Stanley left the Open yesterday with a broken heart?”

“That’s right. Though I don’t think Stanley minded so much. There were some ladies who caught his eye in the press box.”

“Very true.” Mrs. Harper smiled at Gene the doorman when he came forward to take her bag.

“Ma’am, your car is here.” He took the bag, and we followed him outside, where a town car idled at the curb.

“Thank you again for inviting me this weekend, and of course for tonight’s stay at the hotel. You’re so sweet.”

She laughed. “My pleasure, dear.” She got into the car, thanking Gene for getting the door. She stuck her head out of the open window and waved as the car pulled away, heading west towards Fifth Avenue. “So long, Carmen. Enjoy the city. It’s a beautiful day!”

“May I call a cab for you?” Gene held up an old-fashioned taxi whistle in his hand.

“Nah. It’s gorgeous. I’m gonna walk for a spell. Thank you, though.”

“Very good, ma’am. Have a lovely day.” He tipped his cap at me, and I took off with a spring in my step, heading south on Madison Avenue to the subway.

* * *

The intersection of Broadway and Spring was full of tourists shopping, parents pushing babies in designer strollers, and street vendors selling handmade jewelry, vintage clothing, and so many books. I took a moment to orient myself, slipping on my sunglasses as I squinted in the sunlight. In my bag, I felt my phone buzz. I pulled it out to discover I had gotten a text.

> TOM: button

I grinned, taking a few steps to stand just out of the flow of people before I replied.

> CARMEN: hi baby
> 
> TOM: what r u up 2
> 
> CARMEN: wandering around SoHo, missing you
> 
> TOM: aw
> 
> CARMEN: whos gonna hold my shopping bags if not u
> 
> TOM: funny
> 
> CARMEN: how many parties last night?
> 
> TOM: lost count after 3
> 
> CARMEN: pics online looked great btw
> 
> TOM: thx love
> 
> CARMEN: love the new blue t-shirt of sex
> 
> TOM: just a blue t-shirt, no sex
> 
> CARMEN: why not
> 
> TOM: retiring blue t-shirt of sex
> 
> CARMEN: why?
> 
> TOM: u
> 
> CARMEN: baby
> 
> TOM: strictly a 1 blue t-shirt of sex guy
> 
> CARMEN: probably shouldn’t wear it when i bang other dudes huh?
> 
> TOM: brat
> 
> CARMEN: LOL
> 
> TOM: g2g
> 
> CARMEN: love u
> 
> TOM: love u 2

I walked east a few blocks, browsing in stores along the way, not making it far before my stomach began to growl. I had skipped breakfast with Mrs. Harper, and the last time I had something to eat was the evening before.

On the corner of Lafayette and Mercer, I found [a fancy cafe](http://santambroeus.com/sa_soho.html), the outdoor patio of which was occupied by blasé women who picked at $14 egg white omelettes. An intimidating bunch that made me think of the high school cafeteria but I decided to treat myself anyway, a size 18 in a sea of size double 0s.

I was about to tuck into a stack of blueberry and lemon ricotta pancakes when someone came close enough to cast a shadow on my plate. I looked up into the warm brown eyes of Stanley Tucci.

“Carmen! We missed you at the party last night!” He leaned down to kiss me hello on both cheeks.

“I’m sure you did, but I was exhausted after the day we had at the Open.” I gestured at the empty chair across from me. “Join me?”

“Love to.”

As soon as he sat down, the waitstaff jumped to attention, fussing over him as they fetched him water and coffee. I smirked to myself when the maitre d’ introduced himself personally before taking Stanley’s order. When the man left us alone, Stanley leaned forward.

“What’s with the smirk?”

I blushed. “Sorry. It’s not you, but… all that fawning. Isn’t it exhausting?”

He shrugged. “It’s not usually that bad.”

“Usually not that bad at this place, or around town in general?”

“In general, though I think this place has a reputation for being paparazzi friendly.”

“Oh no! Should we move inside? You shouldn’t be sitting out here if you’re going to get bothered…” I raised my hand, attempting to get the attention of a waiter. Stanley chuckled, then took my hand in his so he could lower it to the table.

“I wouldn’t worry. I’m not really tabloid fodder. It’s usually some young starlet and whatever bad boy actor she’s dating that the photographers are after.”

I speared a bite of pancake with my fork, then held it up to my mouth. “Oh! So you’re not a bad boy actor?” I joked.

Stanley leaned in and smiled. “A bad boy? Is that what you’re into?”

“Um…” I set my fork down without taking a bite. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. I wouldn’t call the guy I’m seeing now a bad boy.” _Not outside of the bedroom anyway_ , I thought to myself.

“You’re seeing somebody?”

“Yes. I thought I mentioned that yesterday.”

Stanley shook his head slowly. “You just said you were unavailable. And if you’re just seeing somebody, it can’t be serious, right?”

I shook my head. “No. It’s completely serious.”

“If it’s so serious, then why isn’t he here?” He arched his eyebrow at me and sat back.

“He’s in Toronto, for the film festival.”

“So he’s an actor? Director? Anybody I know?”

“It’s Tom Hiddleston.”

Stanley looked appalled as he took a sip of his coffee. “Loki? That guy from all that bloated CGI Marvel dreck? You’re dating that guy?”

I gripped my fork tightly. “Yes. Him. And what do you mean ‘that guy’”?

“Nothing. It’s just… I mean,” Stanley snorted. “He was good in those flicks, but it was a bit camp, isn’t it? All that scenery-chewing with Tony Hopkins…”

 _Seriously?_ “He was great.”

Stanley shrugged. “If you say so.”

I put my fork down, and pulled my napkin off my lap. “I think I’ve lost my appetite.”

“Oh come on Carmen. I was just joking around.” Stanley smiled wolfishly then covered my hand with his. “Please stay.”

I wanted to throw my pancakes at him for taking a cheap shot at Tom, ostensibly in some misguided pursuit of me. But that would punish me as well as him, because the pancakes were fucking delicious. And while I knew Tom didn’t need me to defend him to somebody he didn’t even know, I wasn’t about to let Stanley off. Not at all.

I returned his sly smile with a sweet one of my own. “Of course, Stanley.”

“That’s more like it.” He perked up when the maitre d' returned with his order, a bowl of oatmeal, and a refill on his coffee. We ate in silence, eyeing each other (him with a gleam in his eye, me cautiously) as we chewed. He was efficient, not wasting a single gesture as he spooned brown sugar into his bowl and stirred it in, took a sip of water, then some coffee, another sip of water, then a bite of oatmeal. He was fascinating to watch, the way his hands moved, crossing one leg over another, or casting a glance at his paper.

“You know…” I mused as I took my last bite of pancake. “Maybe if we’d met before I took up with Tom, we could have, dunno, struck up a tidy friendship.” I shrugged.

“We could still be friends, Carmen. You are awfully alluring.”

Oh lord. “Alluring? Really?” I leaned back in my chair.

“Very much so. I could tell when we met yesterday. You were so proper with Mrs. Harper but underneath [that white dress of yours](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4262145), something not so innocent. Something baser, no?”

I threw my head back and laughed. “Does that actually work? The whole ‘you look innocent but under your clothes I bet you’re not’ spiel?”

He looked thoughtful. “Well… yes.”

I laughed again and got to my feet. Stanley stood up and reached for my right hand with his left.

“Please, Carmen. We’re adults. We can be friends, can’t we?” He ran his thumb over my knuckles.

“No.” I looked down at his hand in disgust, then removed it from mine. “First of all, I could never get involved with somebody who would actually pay $11 for a bowl of oatmeal. Secondly, I think it’s rich for the guy best known as Caesar Flickerman from the Hunger Games movies to accuse my boyfriend of being camp. And lastly? The next time you remove your wedding ring before you hit on a woman, make sure there isn’t a tan line on your ring finger to give you away.”

Stanley’s mouth tightened into a thin line, but he didn’t say anything. He sat back down and avoided my gaze as he returned to his oatmeal. I stuck my sunglasses on my head and slung my purse over my shoulder.

The maitre d’ rushed over as soon as I started walking away. “Was everything to your satisfaction, mademoiselle?”

I smiled. “Yes, thank you. The pancakes were sublime. Sadly, the company was awful. Please tell Mr. Tucci thank you for buying me brunch, and I hope I never see him again.”

* * *

**Tom**

Sunday night, and I hadn’t heard from Carmen since this afternoon. She was either avoiding my calls and texts, or was perhaps trapped under a dresser and couldn’t reach her phone. Either way, there had to be some reason, good or not, why there were pictures of her in New York City flirting with Stanley Tucci over brunch being tweeted at me by a few especially desperate tabloids. There was nothing in her Twitter stream, so I googled her name, and there the pictures were again.

_I trust her. I trust her. I trust her._

I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror as I got out of the shower. I looked like shit. It wasn’t late, just a little past nine, but I had to be up early for more interviews, more Q&A sessions and photo shoots. I had only been in Toronto for three days, but it felt like I’d been here forever.

I wanted to go home, to London and to my bed and my books and my Button. I wanted to crawl under the sheets and not wake up until award season was over. I wanted to find Carmen in my kitchen wearing nothing but that blue t-shirt, holding a slice of pie for us to share as she makes her way up to our bedroom. I wanted to go down on her, make her come with my tongue and my fingers, until she screamed herself hoarse, and then cuddle with her until Christmas.

So where was she?

I shrugged my pyjamas and was just crawling into bed when my phone chirped at me.

> CARMEN: Facetime?
> 
> TOM: YES
> 
> CARMEN: get your laptop
> 
> TOM: why not phone
> 
> CARMEN: you may want to keep your hands free for this lol
> 
> TOM: ఠ_ఠ ఠ_ఠ ఠ_ఠ

Carmen’s call came through just as I opened my computer and propped it up on my knees. Sitting up in what looked to be an enormous bed, she wore her glasses and, as ever, the blue shirt. She waved her fingers at me, and I waved back.

“Hi, Button.”

“You look tired.”

“I am, from worrying all day. I couldn’t reach my girlfriend all afternoon.”

“She sounds like a bitch.” She smiled when I laughed.

“No. She’s wonderful.”

“Then I hate her,” she drawled. “Having brunch with other men. On outdoor patios where people desperate for a few bucks will take pictures, make it look like she’s cheating on you.”

“I know she isn’t.”

Carmen nodded. “She knows you trust her. She knows you miss her. She misses you, too.” She blew me a kiss.

“So is that why you wanted to chat? Because you missed me? It’s only been a few days.”

“Yeah,” she whispered. “An eternity.”

“Everything okay?”

She nodded. “Yeah. But did you know Stanley Tucci’s a total sleaze?”

I laughed as she pretended to scowl. “What did he do? You looked friendly enough in those pictures I saw.”

“Did Luke tell you? I didn’t hear from him about them.”

I shook my head. “I may have googled you.”

“What?!” Carmen’s eyes widened in pretend shock. “You googled me? We haven’t even done anal yet!”

I started coughing as I laughed. “Well… you know… I was saving it for a special occasion. I was gonna try to warm you up to the idea first.”

“Baby, seriously. He stopped by, and he wasn’t such a sleaze yesterday so I thought asking him to join me was harmless enough.”

“But something happened, right?”

“Yeah. He put the moves on me. And then he said you weren’t that great as Loki. Guess which pissed me off more?”

“I don’t deserve you, Button.”

Carmen scrunched up her nose as she smiled, and I never wanted so desperately to kiss her as I did right then. She was adorable. “No. You really don’t!” She tucked her hair behind her ears. “Anyway, I thought I’d reward myself for not throwing my plate at him when he said that. So I bought myself this little present. Wanna see?”

“Sure.”

Carmen clasped the brass heart that hung on a thin chain around her neck and held it up with her fingers. “Can you see it? There’s an inscription.”

“No, I don’t think I can… just a moment.” I found my glasses on the nightstand. When I slipped them on, Carmen moaned.

She leaned forward. “I meant what I said in my text on Saturday. The next time we have sex, the glasses come out.”

“Yours as well, darling.”

“Deal.” Carmen held the heart out, closer to the camera. I could just make out the words, which were engraved in a messy script.

“Does that really say _[eat a dick](http://ingodwetrustnyc.com/collections/sweet-nothings/products/eat-a-dick-sweet-nothing-necklace-brass)_?”

“Yup!” Carmen let the charm fall back against her throat. “Just something fun for me. Or just in case Stanley Tucci hits on me. Again. Though after the tongue-lashing I gave him today when he tried it, I don’t think that will be a problem.”

“Good.” I nodded. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“Also, I like to think of _eat a dick_ as a reminder that I need to give more blow jobs.” She winked at me.

“Would this be for my benefit?”

Carmen yawned. “Yeah, I guess, but you’d have to take a number and get in line just like everybody else.”

“Minx!”

She laughed. “I mean, why do you think this bed is so fucking big?!”

“Brat!”

“That’s the spirit, baby. Hold on, I’m going to…” Carmen set the laptop down, making the image of her shake. She lay down on her side, propped her head up with her hand, and smiled at me. She patted the mattress in front of her. “Join me?”

“Of course, love.” I set my own computer down, then lay on my side, facing it. When I did, she reached out and tapped her screen. I tapped mine back.

“You sleepy?”

I nodded. “Yes. Getting there. Early start tomorrow. Long day.”

“I wish I could be there to tuck you in.”

“Me too. Would you tell me a bedtime story if you were here?”

Carmen looked thoughtful. “I’d start one anyway. I mean, I’d probably get as far as ‘Once upon a time…’ before I just jumped you.”

When I laughed, she joined me. She looked at me, a tiny smile on her face, then she bit her lip.

“Baby, can you do me a favor?”

“What’s that?”

“Touch me.”

“How?”

Carmen held up her free hand, then ran it down her body, from her throat, between her breasts, then just out of sight. She shifted slightly, moaning as her hand found its way between her legs.

“Tell me what to do.”

“Oh Button…”

“Tom, please.”

“Close your eyes, love.” When she did, I took a deep breath. “Just rub your clit, gently. Trace it with the tip of your finger. That’s my hand, not yours.” I watched her arm twitch as her hand began to move.

“And I’m not here, and you’re not there. We’re in bed, at home, in London. It’s raining outside because, well, London.”

When she giggled, I smiled. “I’m lying behind you, we’re both on our sides, and your leg is sort of hooked behind you, over mine. So you’re open. You’re so open for me, Car. I… I pull you closer, so my hard cock is pressed up against your back. And you’re whining for me, just as you are now, but I won’t give it to you. Won’t give you my cock just yet.”

“Please…” I saw Carmen’s shoulder and arm moving faster as she continued her ministrations.

“No, love. I’m just tickling your clit, which I love so much. Button, you look so beautiful right now. I slip my finger inside you, start moving it inside you. My thumb’s now pressing on your clit and you inhale sharply. Your head falls back, against my chest, and I kiss your temple. I start whispering all the things I love about touching you like this. How I love taking you like this, gently but so intense. That’s how it feels to me. How I love listening to you be so quiet as you get closer to the edge. You don’t have to be quiet, but you always are when it’s like this. Just you, and me, and the rain. And you, we… we’re getting close. It won’t be long now. I moan in your ear, listening as your breaths get faster and shallower. You aren’t making words anymore because you can’t. You bring your free arm up, grab me by the scruff of the neck, and pull my head down towards you. I kiss your shoulder. When I brush that little spot inside you, your hips jerk forward, so I yank you back so I can feel you against me. Grind my cock against the small of your back, your ass. I wish I could put it a better way but that’s what I do. I kiss the back of your neck as you come, listen to you saying my name so lovingly as you come just for me. Only for me.”

Carmen laughed softly as she came, biting her bottom lip and smiling. She looked so beautiful, with her hair falling around her face. I wanted to hold her so badly as she finished, feel her shudder in my arms. I ached for her. When she opened her eyes, we smiled at each other.

“Feel better?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I do. Thank you for that. I love you.”

“I love you, Button. Do you think you can sleep now?”

Carmen shook her head. “No. Not yet.”

“Something else I can do for you?”

“No.” She shook her head, then grinned. “It’s your turn.”

“Oh,” I whispered. “Okay.”

“Lie on your back, please. And if you could turn your head so you can still see me. Maybe use a pillow…”

I did as she asked, tucking a pillow under my head and neck so I could look at her. She smiled as I placed my hands, palms down, on my stomach.

“Comfy? Can you still hear me?”

“Yes, Button.”

“Okay.” She looked in my eyes and took a deep breath.

“We’re in my bed in Chicago. It’s snowing outside because, well, Chicago.” We laugh. “We’re both in our underwear because, as much as I love slinking around in pretty nightgowns, sometimes just knickers and a t-shirt, which is what I’m wearing right now, is what feels best. I’ve pinned you down, one knee on either side of your waist, and I’m running my hands through your hair. My fingers find the radiator scar, the one you told me about from when you were a child. I close my eyes and kiss it. When I do, you put your arms around me and hug me.”

“I like that. That’s good.” I felt a warmth in my belly that was comforting.

“Okay. I slip out of the hug, moving down your body as I kiss you gently. Your eyelids, which are closed. The tip of your incredibly elegant nose. The freckles in your ears. Your sweet lips, nibbling on the corners because they drive me crazy. I rub my cheek against your jaw, giggling at the way the stubble scrapes against me. You laugh when I lick your neck down to your suprasternal notch…”

“What would that be?”

“Seriously, Cambridge?!”

“Car… please.”

“The hollow of your throat.” When she slowly ran her fingertip over her own, I gasped and took myself in hand. Her eyes flit down to my shoulders, watching them move. “Good boy.”

“I nibble at the hollow, and you run your fingers through my hair when I do. You whine a little when I sit up, but stop when I lift the hem of your shirt, helping you sit up and tug it off before I push you back down gently. And because I am an American, and believe in democracy and solidarity and equality, I pull my shirt off, too. Of course, in that brief second that my shirt is on over my head you slip your hands up my belly and squeeze my breasts.”

“Oh Button…” I arched my back slightly as I began to stroke myself with my right hand while squeezing my balls with the left.

“I roll my hips because when you brush your thumbs over my nipples, it feels like sparks going off. And I can feel it in my clit, too. Always. But before I can get myself off, I need to touch you. Taste you.”

“Oh god…” My hands were moving faster, seemingly of their own accord, so I took a deep breath and slowed down.

“I slowly tug down your boxers, and your cock springs out. It’s hard. It’s so hard. Just for me, right?”

“Yes… fuck…” My breathing was getting faster, shallower. Not just from the speed and the pressure of my hands, which felt so good, but from the look on Carmen’s face as she watched me. The mixture of love and lust as I pleasured myself for her. She slipped her hand over one breast, pushing up the shirt so she could idly run her fingertips over the taut nipple.

“I take your cock in my hand, rubbing my thumb over the tip before I take you into my mouth. My warm, wet mouth. You’re so big, though, so I have to keep pumping the shaft with my hand while I slowly lick the head with my tongue. I purse my lips, then begin to take you into my mouth, deeper and deeper. Your hands are already in my hair…”

“Oh god…”

“And you move one of them to the back of my head, the nape of my neck actually, because you want to fuck my mouth so badly, don’t you?”

“Yes…”

“So I take a breath, relax my throat, and suck. Your cock feels so good, and I want all of it. This is what it feels like for me. When I take you into my mouth, it feels like the best thing, the only thing. I love the way you taste, the way you feel inside me. You’re so big, you fill me up and it’s all I want from you.”

“Shit… Carmen…”

“I know, baby. I know. Oh god, you’re so hot. I want you so bad. I bob my head up and down, occasionally letting your cock out of my mouth so I can catch a little breath. When I suck in my cheeks, your fingers tighten. I moan as I take you deeper, and you start cursing. I stop when I feel your cock touch the back of my throat. Because I need a moment, a moment to enjoy this feeling of fullness, of worshiping and being worshipped, before I move both of your hands to the back of my head, so you can hold onto me as you start fucking my mouth.”

“Yes…” I squeezed my eyes shut, and I could see, could feel her lips and her tongue as she swallowed me. I began to roll, then buck my hips. Carmen cried out as my movements got bigger, my hands move faster as, in my mind, I fucked her. Somehow my eyes flew open just as I came, just as she came, as she fingered herself again so she could come with me. We came together, hundreds of miles apart.

“You’re so beautiful, Tom,” she whispered. “You’re so beautiful when you come.”

I lay there, in a daze, my cum warm and sticky on my hand and on my belly. I stared at the ceiling, wishing that Carmen was with me, and could just crawl up and rest her head on my shoulder. Instead, I sat up, grabbed some tissues to clean myself, then flopped back onto the bed and looked at her.

“I wanted to say something funny, something cute, but…”

I met her dreamy smile with one of my own. “But what?”

She shook her head. “I got nothing.”

“Same here.”

“I love you, baby.”

“I love you, Button.”

“Good night.”

“Sweet dreams.”

She closed her eyes, pulled Boh into her chest, and snuggled into her bed. I watched her sleep until, at last, I fell asleep myself. 


End file.
